Tragedy
by KyrieofAccender
Summary: Erik's thoughts after the curtain falls... Why could he not be like Romeo, like Othello thus with a kiss I die…?  Oneshot.


A/N: God forbid!!! Kyrie's written something angsty?!?!? It's a sign of the apocalypse!

Anyway... this is just a little oneshot that's been bouncing around my head for a while now, inspired by the lyrics below and Shakespeare's tendency to kill his romantically-tragic heroes in much the same way.

My oneshots have a strange tendency to get written at VERY odd hours of the night... it's nearly three am now. I do love summer vacation...

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEEEASE let me know what you think! Questons, comments, concerns, critiques always welcome! I love reviews...

Enjoy!

* * *

_Oh Lord… how could you let me love like this?_

_**No one dies upon a kiss**_

_And only fools believe in bliss… _

_(Prayer – The Scarlet Pimpernel; wonderful lyrics by Nan Knighton)_

* * *

Erik half-staggered through the dark, dank passages of the fifth cellar of the opera devoid of any sort of light, direction… of any hope. 

_Damn_, but why had he run? He could vaguely hear the mob of opera patrons tearing through his home to find him… death would be a mercy now.

He had let her go. He was insane to do it… but he had let her go. The moment Christine had kissed him, he knew he could never do anything to make her unhappy… and forcing her to stay in the darkness with him would be just as much torture for her as killing her young nobleman would be. He had let them both go… and now here he was, broken and alone.

She had been his last chance… his last chance at life, at love. He had given her his music, had given her everything… and now how he was repaid… Betrayed, unmasked, on stage at the premiere of his own opera… abandoned to mob that wanted to kill him… Perhaps he ought to let them.

_Christine_… God, the look in her eyes as she had pressed the ring into his hand and slowly turned away would haunt him forever. She had silently _apologized_… he could not hold anything against her, never… perhaps he had asked too much of her. She was young… scared… so innocent. But she had apologized for her actions, even perhaps for not being strong enough… even though she could never possibly understand how much pain she was truly causing him. Yes, it would be a mercy for the mob to find him now, kill him now, with the memory of her kiss still so fresh in his mind and on his lips… he would not put up a fight.

For half a century he had walked the earth alone, starved for any sort of human compassion because of the repulsiveness of his face… and just when he had finally found it, he had it torn from him…

Why could he not be like Romeo, like Othello; _thus with a kiss I die_…? Having now experienced a bright moment of happiness, only to have it torn from under his feet, would it be so wrong to hope for a timely end to his sorry existence?

But no… that would be too easy. Shakespeare had gotten it wrong… his tragic heroes died; they were gifted peace at the end of their sufferings. It was the Greeks who had it right… _their _so-called heroes were left to live, left to suffer the consequences of their foolish actions, left to live with their own pain and guilt and longing for what could never be…

_Haven't You cursed me enough by now? Is there no mercy You have planned for me?_ Erik thought hopelessly; his prayers had never before been answered. What was the use now?

He only prayed that in freeing her, he at least had allowed her to be happy… he could live with the pain if he knew that she was happy…

Ironing his twisted, malformed excuse for a face with his hands, he slowly pushed himself to his feet and forced himself to keep going. There was nothing for him at the Opera any longer… only pain and death.

_If Christine is happy, it's worth it_… _I can stand to bear it then_… he constantly reminded himself as he made his way bit by bit towards the edge of his underground domain… a castle of falsehoods and dreams that had come crashing down around him.

Christine would never be his… he knew that… she belonged in the light, while he was a monster, a murderer and extortionist, a creature of the night at best. She would never be his… but that did not mean that he had to stop watching over her. If she was happy in the new life he had allowed her to make for herself, he would survive this.

The Angel of Music had yet to hang up his wings…


End file.
